


Deck Chairs On The Titanic

by dorkilysoulless (custodian)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caring Dean, Difficult transition to regular life, F/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/custodian/pseuds/dorkilysoulless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean showed up a couple of weeks ago so broken Lisa would be a fool to take him in, she does it anyway.  He may not feel like he deserves what she's offering, but after a long night helping take care of Ben, maybe he's just too tired to run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deck Chairs On The Titanic

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for [Hellatus Prompt Fic Tuesday](http://itfeltpurefic.tumblr.com/hellatus) on my Tumblr blog. Original link with prompt is [here](http://itfeltpurefic.tumblr.com/post/91170948244/canon-compliant-dean-lisa-as-per-gillasue345).

It’s almost four in the morning, and he’s got to be up in a handful of hours so he can get to the work site by eight, but Dean’s sitting up against the headboard in Ben’s room watching the kid sleep. He’s petting Ben’s hair sort of absently like he used to do for Sammy when he was sick. That kid never ran a fever that didn’t ache pretty much everywhere — and hell, neither has Dean — and Ben’s the same way, looks like. 

So he does the hair thing, and Ben finally — finally — zonks out. 

Dean might be dozing a little when Lisa walks in. Not sleeping, because he knows she’s there behind him before she puts her arms around his shoulders and presses a kiss onto the top of his head. 

He’s only been here a couple of weeks, living on Lisa Braeden’s couch, and things are…well, they’re not normal or even remotely okay. How are they supposed to be? His brother’s gone, and his friends are dead. He drinks too much when he thinks Lisa and Ben won’t see, but she knows. She hasn’t called him on it yet, but she knows.

“He really is mine, isn’t he,” Dean says. He’s got Lisa’s dark eyes and skin too dark to freckle right, but other than that, it’s like looking in a damn mirror at himself at that age.

Lisa doesn’t answer him. She just squeezes him a little closer and fidgets with his shirt. 

“It’s been a long night,” she says finally. “Let’s get you to bed.”

When she doesn’t let his hand go in the hall he hesitates. He’s bone tired, and to be honest he doesn’t feel like he deserves what she’s offering him. Hell, he doesn’t deserve to be under this roof. Not really. He’s a fucked-up, poisonous wreck of a human being who grew up on death and fear and grifting. 

“Um. Look, you don’t—”

She shushes him and gives him a little tug and he’s just too worn out and broken to say no to her like he should. Hell, that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? Because she says yes to him when she should say no? He’s just some guy she fucked back in the day. Someone who helped her once. She doesn’t owe him anything. 

It’s not her job to house and feed and take care of his sorry ass.

He follows her to the bedroom anyway. 

She kisses him the second the door closes, and he lets her. Even goes through the motions a little while his heart tries to disengage, like he’s just fucking his way across the Continental US as per usual, but he can’t be that guy tonight. Everything’s too raw, and the only way he can kiss tonight is tender and like he means it. He wraps his arms around her and takes comfort in the warmth of her skin through her night shirt as she leads them toward her bed. They stumble a little over each other’s feet but Dean stops them falling. 

She sits him down on the mattress and straddles his lap and all he can do is stare up at her because she’s so beautiful, even in the harsh orange-yellow of the streetlight outside her window. 

“So, uh, it’s been a while,” he says, suddenly awkward. “Like, basically a decade.”

Lisa smiles down at him and runs a hand through his hair. “You trying to tell me you’re not twenty anymore and to lower my expectations?”

“Not quite yet, but I was gonna get there after this being kind of weird and the fact that I’m super wiped out, yeah,” he says, and feels his cheeks go warm. 

Lisa just shakes her head at him, clearly amused. “Who is this sweet man, and where is he hiding Dean Winchester?”

She kisses him, which is good because he really doesn’t know how to say that this is him, just him, completely stripped free of the bullshit. That he wants to be safe enough to be shy or scared sometimes. He lets her strip off his t-shirt, then slides his hands up under hers to caress her sides and cup her breasts. 

They laugh when she accidentally hits him in the face while she’s lifting her shirt off. 

“You okay?” she teases.

He just grins and pulls her down on top of him. “I don’t know. You might have to kiss it better.” 

“I’ll do more than kiss,” she says with a wink, but brushes her lips against his cheekbone anyway before getting off of him so she can undo his belt. 

Dean watches her and wonders what good thing he’s done to earn this. The years have been really kind to Lisa. Her curves are a little softer, sure, but it suits her. Her boyshorts are cute on the fuller curve of her ass. Nicer, maybe, than the thong he remembers her in. 

He reaches down to help her get him out of his jeans. She tugs at the waistband of his boxer briefs and he slides them down too with his jeans onto his thighs, where she takes over and pulls them down his legs. 

Lisa moves to straddle him again, but he shakes his head and pulls her down to face him instead. She slides her hand between them and grasps his cock, still mostly soft, and plays with it. He sighs, a good sound for a good feeling, and slides his own hand into her underwear. Her hair there is smooth and a little wiry, but nice. She shifts a little on the bed and bends her top leg knee up to give him better access. 

He drifts a little while they touch each other. He’s so damn tired, and her bed is softer than anything he’s slept on in months. Lisa’s warm, too, and she makes him feel good. He hasn’t felt good in so long. She must notice, because she nips at his lips and murmurs something about there being no rest for the wicked. 

“I thought you said I was sweet?” he mumbles, faintly embarrassed, but also kind of pleased at how wet she is on his fingers now, and glad she’s going to let him enjoy that in spite of the fact that he might have drooled on her pillow a little bit.

The condom wrapper is a pain in the ass to get into, but she helps him with it and rolls it on for him. He has her put her arms around his shoulders and then slides down a little before putting one of her legs up over his hip. He guides himself in with his hand, slow and gentle, and he feels a flutter in his chest when she whispers his name. 

Not just sex, then. Not any more. Not with her. He swallows, closes his eyes, and rests his forehead against her shoulder. 

They find a rhythm and he just holds onto her as they move together in the mostly-dark, listening to each other’s breaths. He should probably haul out some fuck trick or other, but he doesn’t. He just holds her tighter because he’s scared to let go.

He’s getting close when one of them screws up the rhythm and he slips out. They take the opportunity to rearrange themselves so that he can spoon up behind her and rest his face against the skin of her back and shoulder while reaching around to tease her clit. 

It’s hard for him to miss how she likes that, either in the way she moves against him or the way she feels inside, but even without those he can hear the change in her little moans. 

He still comes first, but he slides his hand down between them to make sure the condom doesn’t slip off, and then finishes her off with his fingers while he tries to stay inside. It works out okay even though it’s almost too much for him stimulation-wise. He remembers how she said she liked feeling full of him way back when, though, and wants her to feel good. 

Lisa Braeden deserves to feel good. She deserves…well, everything. 

They clean themselves up with some tissues. Dean reaches down over the side of the bed for his shirt, but Lisa stops him.

“You should sleep in here, Dean,” she tells him, still sated and kind of muzzy.

He shakes his head. “I really shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?”

“I don’t—” he starts, but stops because his voice breaks. He should go. Not just to the couch, but completely. He should take his stuff and get into the Impala and drive until Lisa Braeden is so far behind him he can never come back because…because..

She sits up and puts her arms around his waist and he shatters. 

Lisa manages, somehow, to get him back into the bed and she holds him while he sobs. She plays with his hair and strokes little circles against his shoulders and lets him cry until he can’t anymore. 

When he finally looks up at her face — dumb, he tells himself, because she’s humoring him, she has to be — he sees her face is wet, too. 

“M’sorry,” he rasps. “I don’t— I mean, I’m not…Lisa, I’m pretty messed up. There is literally no part of me that’s okay. I don’t know how to live like you and Ben do. I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“Dean—”

“I’m serious. I basically grew up in a car. I barely remember a time before I knew how to use a gun. I spent the last of my cash on cheap bourbon. It’s not your job to fix me. Hell, there’s parts of me that can’t be fixed.”

She touches his cheek. Her fingertips are soft and warm, and he leans into her touch on instinct. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she tells him.

He swallows. Nods. He wonders if she understands the gravity of her words, and how scared he is right now because she’s basically telling him he can have the one thing he’s always wanted and knew he couldn’t have: a home. A regular, normal, home. A chance to be a better father than his own.

Just one night, he tells himself. One night and then he’d better run the fuck away because if he doesn’t he’ll never, ever want to go. One night. One.

He puts his arm around Lisa’s waist and falls asleep in her arms.


End file.
